Caro's Big Trip: Washington and Memphis

"Let me take you on a journey, beyond sight and sound..."

...enter the Twilight Zone... aka WASHINGTON -a scary freakin' place that was, I tell ya.

Every section of grass that was visible to the human eye, was landscaped to perfection, neatly brushed and all facing the same direction. There were lots of large white monuments devoid of graffiti or dirt, including the massive Masonic (or Egyptian as described in the guide) obelisk standing 555.55 feet built to commemorate George Washington. There were no beggars. There were no obvious shops -they were contained in uniform 1970s circa office buildings. People were very polite; opening doors, the shop assistant service, the exceptional service in Starbucks, where I was offered an extra shot of coffee for free. The taxis do not run on meters, it is a "zone" thing. The buildings were boring, square, no personality, made of grey and glass and men in suits were everywhere. The weather was the same for the duration of our trip -warm, sunny with a little bit of cloud, nothing too showy or over the top, just the right amount of sunshine to make the big white statues glisten. Oh, and forget litter, there is no such thing in Washington.

(Thank christ we found a Starbucks, the only thing that prevented me from mind-merging with the rest of the aliens posing as Washington Locals. Those Lattes are powerful stuff. Resistance is NOT futile).

The more I experienced Washington, the more convinced I was, that the Washingtonians were not really people, they were from another star system, and they are running the country, in a "Matrix" meets "V" meets "Enemy of the State" kinda way. Spooky. It also had an air of "we are middle of the road, lets not rock the boat, suck it up, smile and wave, smile and wave". Very peculiar.

On the plus side, a T shirt which I bought Symon previously, was featured in an indie/punk band music video on MTV. Can't remember their name, but they had tattoos, goaties and played their own instruments. They have this whole indie/punk classification here cos bands like the one previously mentioned don't don't fit into "boring, normal, I use an entire tube of hair gel, I lip-sync my own songs cos if did those dance moves whilst talking I would probably give myself a hernia, boy band 4 part harmonies about love and life and I'm 12 years old shite". MTV calls Blink 182 indie/punk for chrissake. Hardly cutting edge. Still, I was quite delighted that my fashion sense has once again returned, after leaving me and my frumpy fleece from San Francisco, and my man is a funky dresser.

So, we're in Washington and we took the tour of all the things which typify America to the rest of the world -Abraham Lincoln Memorial, Vietnam War Memorial (a couple of Hippies in denim jackets and headbands were burning sage to cleanse the area), Korean War Memorial, The Treasury Department (which houses the Secret Service), The White House (no blowjobs for this dropkick of a bloke) , The Mall, The Reflection Pool, Watergate Apartments, the Holocaust Museum (particularly gruesome as you walk past a room full of shoes worn by those sent to the camps) and Capitol Hill. We drove down a lengthy street which housed practically every embassy from all the corners of the world. Except New Zealand. Britain's was the biggest and the most ostentacious -how they got city planning for that red telphone booth out front, I'll never know.

I was beginning to fear for the fate of my American friends, do they know the truth? If I tell the truth, would I be the next person Tom Clancy writes a book about? And everybody being so bloody nice and polite was starting to get up my arse, quite frankly. Where's the individuality? Personality? Gorgeous houses? Rudeness to strangers? Lawd, if I didn't clap eyes on someone with a piercing soon, I would swoon.

Then we discovered Georgetown.

If ever Symon and I were forced to live in Washington, we would live in Georgetown. Colourful old houses, wrought iron fencing, iron lace overhangs, narrow cobbled streets pre-dating cars, trolley rail lines which go nowhere, scattered flowers and trees growing any old way they like, loud brash music pumping from fashionable cafes, people with piercings, students in Hilfiger baggy pants with their underwear hanging over the top, caps on backwards, lads on skateboards, children in pushchairs (sadly, dressed in Laura Ashley), girls with fluorescant pink hair and/or blue ponytails, and people who looked like extras from "That 70s Show".

Oh, the relief was overwhelming. But, although I felt slightly better about it all, believing I was once again, back in the real world, I still observed that the trashy/trendy/funky fashions these students were wearing still bore the labels: Christian Dior, Prada, Gucci, Versace, Louis Vuitton...some of them looked damn good and of course, some of them still resembled sloane rangers with their uptight capri pants and matching twinsets, crocodile skin mules and handbags. Frightful, darlings. ...and everybody was armed with a cellphone. I believe this is how they are controlled by the aliens, here.

For no other reason, except to get the hell outta there, would we have risked flying "AirTrans" to Memphis -the cheapest airline with oldest planes ever and pilots who's landing skills had me reaching for the bloody safety pamphlet and looking for my nearest exit.

We arrived in Memphis, Tennessee, armed with a guidebook warning us to protect ourselves by any means and to have a great time on Beale Street -home of the Blues. Firstly, I was shocked at the obvious poverty still evident. Houses and buildings all looked rundown. Cars were old heaps and lots of people milling around in raggedy clothes. It all looks like those movies "The Firm", "The Client", "The patsy Cline Story", any of the Elvis docos. A huge difference to the perfection of Washington. Then, from nowhere, we came across a glittering Pyramid standing 32 stories high and soon after, a massive sparkling baseball park with a huge baseball player about 50 feet tall, straddling a ticket booth and a brand spanking new shopping mall, complete with Tower Records, Gap and Starbucks and 22 movie theatres. Wohoo!

Unfortunately, the shopping mall which had just opened recently, was the scene of a shooting, the night we arrived (incidentally this was 2 blocks from our hotel -the very crappy never stay there Howard Johnson Hotel). The second night had us being evacuated from the hotel with a fire alarm (had I lit my cigarette in a non-smoking room? did I put my cigarette out? ohmigod, would they be able to tell it was me? Will we be fined do you think? my Washington paranoia had intensified). I was particularly disgusted to note that Memphis does not have any gorgeous firemen. They had 4 big trucks and not a hunk among them. Disappointed to say the very least.

Then Symon said, "It probably was your cigarette. I heard that fireman say it started on the 9th floor." I considered shooting him.

Now everybody knows that Memphis is famous for a few things: Elvis, Graceland, John Grisham, Sun Records, Beale Street, the Blues, Rock 'n Roll, Jerry Lee Lewis, BBQs, the Missippi River, the Memphis Belle Bomber plane from World War 2, the place where Dr Martin Luther King was assassinated...

But did you also know that Memphis was named for the ancient Egyptian capital situated along another famous river, the Nile? Hence the 32 storied Pyramid that we first sighted upon arrival in the city. Classy.

And, I gotta tell you this, it's also home to:                                                          

- Goat Day's International Family Festival (notice Memphians never harass New Zealanders with sheep jokes)
- A Kids-only Garage Sale
- The Fat Possum CDs Blues label
- The Blue Suede Brigade (a bunch of information guides filled with enthusiasm and smiling big, on the lookout for lost tourists wearing fancy Blue Suede Nikes)
- The May World Championship BBQ Cooking Contest
- "Big Ass Truck" Blues band
- Denim Diamonds Line Dancing Club
- The Jerry Lee Lewis Ranch
- Bluff City Barn Dance
- "Hard Corn" (hillbilly and country and western rock on the WEVL Radio show). 

Man, there is tons happenin' in Memphis.

Now, you can't talk about Memphis and not mention the King, Mr Presley, Elvis Baby. You know by now, we have been tracking the history of the bloke ever since we arrived in Hawaii, where we experienced the best impersonator for 2000, on a dinner cruise, complete with silk scarves for the 40+yrs women in the audience. Then we arrived in Vegas and visited "Elvis-a-rama" -the definitive Elvis Museum and all things related vegas-wise and the place where I picked up some very special Elvis coasters. 

Nice.

Now, in Memphis, they also feature the Elvis Presley 5K fun run, Elvis Presley's Heartbreak Hotel which plays music and movies 24 hours a day, El-Vez (a mexican Elvis impersonator), Elvis Presley's Memphis Restaurant, International Conference of Elvis Presley (where they spend a week studying "Elvisology" touching on themes such as "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" and "Elvis and the Dysfunctional Family") and my all time favourite, "Elvis Herselvis" (a lesbian Elvis impersonator). I reckon that'd be a great show, unfortunately, she wasn't performing while we were in town.

And I have to say, the real thing about Memphis, is the music. It is the basis of the city's culture and society -it's on the radio, blasting from restaurants and shops, from cars, from bands playing in the park, from the buskers on the street and it's all rock 'n roll, blues and soul. We went to Sun Studios and touched the very microphone that Elvis used to record his first single, saw the guitar Johnny Cash used to record with, having inserted a dollar bill under the strings to create a "train" sound which doubled as a drum bass in the background. We heard stories from the tour guide about Sam Phillips, Jerry Lee Lewis, Bob Dylan, U2, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Howlin Wolf, BB King and Ike Turner.

The Rock N' Soul Museum housed the history of Memphis music, with fabulous displays, freaky clothes, shiny guitars (who knew sequins could be so versatile?), old wurlitzer jukeboxes, interviews with the legends, copies of CDs and tapes, 45s and 78s on display, from the beginning of the blues to the present day. BB King's guitar, "Lucille" is housed here, as is the piano from Ike Turner's "Rocket 88" song, apparently the first rock n' roll song. And I also got to see a Patsy Cline Exhibition. Yay me! I dunno what Symon thought of the cowgirl outfits or the letters and the interviews on the big screen, but I sure liked it a whole lot.

But the big deal for us, was Graceland. The pilgrimage to see the house of the King. What a setup and who the hell was the guy's interior decorator? I'm not sure that velvet and seersucker go together? My Lawd, Missy, there was green shag pile carpet on the walls and the ceiling in the hallway up the stairs to the "Jungle Room"! Aside from the fact that Elvis had crap taste in chintz and soft furnishings, the rest of "Graceland Plaza" is something else.

There are restaurants, a soda pop shop, a veritable buffet of souvenir shops, a memorobilia shop, a music shop, a movie theatre showing an Elvis doco, the car museum housing all the cars motorcycles snow mobiles go karts etc, the Lisa Marie private jet and the Hound Dog 2 Lear jet, an exhibition of Elvis' personal belongings -like riding boots, guns, books, glasses outfits, things belonging to his Mother, Gladys, There was also the TV he shot complete with bullet hole and an explanation about how he used household items for target practice, as if that made perfect sense (maybe it does down here in the South). They have shuttle buses which drive you across the road and up the driveway to the big house, itself (to prevent people from driving all over the estate and so it is accessible for mobility-challenged people).

What actually surprised me more was the total respect people had for being there. People were using the outside ashtrays provided, no litter was dropped, people spoke in hushed tones, and walked about with awed expressions on their faces.

And I would like to say there were no squawking children, but there were a couple, belonging to the same parents, who appeared oblivious to the continuous din which competed with "Glory, glory, Hallelujah" in the racqetball court. And it wasn't only me who was tutting and giving them pissed-off looks. Lots of little old ladies whispering about "lack of respect", "no discipline these days" and "if my kids ever behaved like that..." Still, they were the only pain in the arse, otherwise the whole visit was a fabby 5 hours well spent. I also think the driving rain and thunderstorms kept a whole lot of people away, so it wasn't very crowded at all. I was having a bad hair day, but at least hardly anyone saw me...

Next stop New Orleans, the big easy...

Later

Caro